never wanted anyone.”
Looking away, she mulishly shook her head.
As she shivered, he took off his sleek black tuxedo jacket and draped it gently over her shoulders. Reaching out, he cupped her cheek, running the tip of his thumb over her tender, trembling lower lip. “Holly, look at me.”
Her eyes were huge in the moonlight as she flashed him a troubled glance. Behind her he could see the snowy park stretching out forever beneath the wintry, starlit night. She said haltingly, “You can’t expect me to believe—”
“Believe this,” he whispered. And, grabbing the lapels of the oversize tuxedo jacket around her, he pulled her hard against him, and swiftly lowered his mouth to hers.
EVEN IN HER wildest dreams, Holly had never imagined a kiss like this.
The few anemic kisses she’d had in her life, the forgettable ends of unsatisfying dates in high school and her one semester of college, had been nothing like this.
But then, she’d never been kissed by a man like Stavros.
His lips moved expertly as his tongue swept hers, taking command, taking possession. Held fast against his powerful, muscular body, she felt herself respond, felt her body rise.
Beneath his passionate, ruthless embrace, a spark of desire built inside her to a sudden white-hot flame.
She’d never felt like this before. The memory of her childish infatuation with Oliver melted away in a second beneath the intensity of this fire. A moment before, she’d been heartsick and despondent over her sister’s harsh words. But now, she was lost in a sensual dream, her whole body tight with a sweet, savage yearning she never wanted to end.
When he finally pulled away, Holly looked up at him in shock. Behind him, the bright lights of Midtown skyscrapers illuminated his dark hair like a halo.
“Agape mou,” he said hoarsely, stroking the edge of her cheekbone gently with his thumb. “You are everything I want in life. Everything.”
Her throat went dry. Trying to smile, she said unevenly, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“I’ve never said it to anyone.” He looked toward the park’s black lace of bare trees against the sweep of moonlit snow. “But life doesn’t last forever. I can’t waste a moment.” He looked at her. “Will you?”
She bit her lip, feeling as if she was in a dream. “But you could have anyone you want. I’m so different…”
“Yes, different. I’ve watched you. You’re warm and loving and kind. And so damned beautiful,” he whispered, running a hand through her long red hair. His gaze dropped to her low-cut red dress. “And so sexy you’d make any man lose his mind.”
Sexy? Her?
He cupped her cheek, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her lips, with butterfly kisses. Drawing back, he looked at her. “You’re the only one I want.”
Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her again until she forgot all her insecurity and doubts, until she forgot her own name.
When he released her, she was still lost in the heat of his embrace. Lifting his phone to his ear, he said unsteadily, “Pick me up on Central Park South.”
“You’re leaving?” she whispered, oddly crestfallen.
“I’m taking you home.”
“You don’t need to take me home. I have my MetroCard. I can—”
“Not your home.” His eyes burned through her. “To mine.”
The thought of going home with him, of what that could mean, caused her to shiver as images of unimaginable delights filled her mind. Her breathing quickened. “Why?”
His sensual lips quirked at the edges. “Why?”
“I mean…do you need something typed, or…?”
“Is that all you think you are?”
She blushed beneath his gaze. She bit her lip, then forced herself to respond. “You want to seduce me…?”
“How clearly must I say it?” he said huskily. He cupped her cheek, searching her gaze. “I want you, Holly. In my bed.” He ran his hand through her hair as he whispered, “In my life.”
And those three last words were the most shocking of all.
She stared at him. Once, she’d thought that working all hours and having a secret crush on her boss was the most she could expect out of life. Even earlier today, as she’d watched Oliver marry her little sister, Holly had been sure her future would be one of self-sacrifice, self-abnegation, caring for others, trying to ignore her own loneliness and misery.
Now, in Stavros’s arms, wrapped in his tuxedo jacket, looking up at the handsome Greek billionaire’s hungry black eyes, she felt like she’d suddenly traded a small black-and-white dream for a big Technicolor one.
His hand tightened on her shoulder. “Unless you still think you’re in love with Oliver.”
Holly took a deep breath, then slowly shook her head. In all her years working for Oliver, she’d seen only what she wanted to see: his boyish good looks, his cheerful, sly charm. She’d deliberately chosen to be blind to the rest: the laziness, the constant womanizing. “You were right,” she said quietly. “It was just a ridiculous dream.”
Stavros exhaled. “Then come home with me tonight.”
“I can’t…” Her heart was pounding. “I’ve never done anything like that.”
“You’ve played by the rules for your whole life. So have I.” His jaw tensed with an anger she didn’t understand as he looked up toward the moon, icy and crystalline in the frozen black sky. “The tycoon’s playbook. Dating models whose names I can barely remember now. Working twenty hours a day to build a fortune, and for what? To buy another Ferrari?” His lips twisted bitterly. “What has my life even been for?”
Holly stared at him, shocked that Stavros would allow himself to appear so vulnerable in front of anyone. It threw her into confusion. She’d thought of him as her all-knowing and powerful boss. But now, she realized, he was also just a man. With a beating heart, like hers.
“You’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Gently, she put her hand over his. “You’ve created jobs all over the world. You’ve built amazing tech that—”
“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
“It matters a lot…”
“Not to me.”
She took a deep breath. “Then what does?”
“This,” he said simply, and lowered his lips to hers.
This time, his kiss was gentle and deep, wistful as a whisper. Could this really be happening? Was she dreaming? Or could she be totally drunk on half a glass of champagne?
Her heart filled with longing as his powerful body enveloped hers.
“Come home with me,” he murmured against her lips.
She sucked in her breath, looking up at his handsome, shadowed face. “It’s Christmas Eve…”
His dark gaze burned through her. “There’s no one else I’d rather have in my arms when I wake on Christmas morning.” His hand slowly traced down her cheek to the edge of her throat to her shoulder shivering beneath the oversize tuxedo jacket. “Unless you don’t want me…”
Her—not want him? Just the ridiculousness of that suggestion made her gasp. “You can’t think that…”